


Hotel Pasado

by zara_mari_92



Category: Original Work
Genre: POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zara_mari_92/pseuds/zara_mari_92
Summary: A new and stylish hotel is opened in Havana, Cuba in 1933. However, during the opening weekend, a prolific murder takes place. 4 guests, brought together by the victim, are swooped into the limelight as possible suspects. They are determined to find the perpetrator, and in the process, they must each come to face with their pasts.
Kudos: 1





	Hotel Pasado

The Paris of the Caribbean. That’s what they call Havana. Glamour, booze, money, it had it all. I knew I had to be a part of it. That time had finally come. I had worked and hustled for years to save up for a place in Cuba, and now I was close to opening. I found a nice spot right on Old Havana, and I decided to put up a hotel. The hotel was a pale pink and orange color that I knew would attract anyone who saw it. I named it Hotel Pasado. I made sure to put in the very best - a spacious dining area, a ballroom for the latest music, and of course, the most upscale bar to serve the best Cuban drinks. It had all the works.   
I walked into Hotel Pasado and headed for the dining area. I looked around at the big double wooden doors, the wide mahogany bar, the tables covered with cream clothes, and I knew it was just about perfect. Well, almost. I looked over to the adjoining ballroom. I could already envision all the parties that would be held here, the whole room packed with people dancing the night away. But the one thing missing was a band. How could I expect to fill this place without great music? I needed to find one fast. But not just any band, of course. I needed only the best. Fortunately for me, my expertise lies in knowing where to find the best clubs. For that, I’d have to go back home to America.   
To find music there was only one place I needed to look - Harlem. Anyone who was anyone played in a club at Harlem and the biggest names in music performed there. The Cotton Club, The Savoy, The Apollo, they were all here, in a neighborhood that had music coursing through its veins. If I wanted the best I didn’t need to go anywhere else.   
I arrived in Harlem and decided to go back to some familiar spots. I went to a club run by an old friend called Joey’s. It was already brimming with people. I watched the crowds and instantly felt a rush of electricity run through my veins. It had been a long while since I’d been in New York, but it felt that nothing had changed, especially not the nightlife.  
The swarms of people drank and danced to the music. For a moment I had forgotten drinking was still illegal back here in the States. It reminded me of why I loved bars and clubs. Outside the world was collapsing. When the stock market crashed back in ‘29 the economy tanked. That day it seemed like most everyone had jumped out of their windows or put a shotgun to their heads. I myself remember finding my father’s body sometime after that in our garage, laying under his car with the engine running. He had been a banker and lost everything that day. Three years later we were still feeling the crushing blow of the Depression. Seemed like everyone was poor and unemployed. The only place people could go to escape the worries from the outside was in nightclubs and speakeasies.   
I approached the bar, ordered a drink, and sat back to watch the musicians play. I had already seen most of the place dancing to it, which was a great sign, but sitting there watching, I noticed a big crowd in front of the band. There was a large group, in particular, surrounding the pianist. I took a swig of my scotch and had a closer look. He was around my age, maybe only a couple of years younger. His dark hair was brushed back in a fashionable comb-over, and even from where I was standing I could tell ladies would find him attractive. As the song ended I saw him get up and walk to the microphone.   
“Ah, hello, everyone,” he said in an almost nervous voice as he cleared his throat and continued, “We’d just like to thank ya for joining us this evening. We’d like to slow it down just a bit and let any lovers in here have a moment. So, fellas, grab your girl and enjoy this final tune. Here’s Mood Indigo.”  
There were gasps and murmurs of delight coming from the crowd and as he began to play. Couples started swarming the dance floor. Collectively, girls grabbed their guys by the hand and led them out as they swayed to the music. I noticed some single girls standing close to the band, eying him as he played on the piano, with grins on their faces and certain looks in their eyes. However, he was either oblivious to it, or he was good at pretending he was. I took another drink and listened to the song. The band was good, but he was definitely the best. And he knew how to excite the crowd, which is just what I wanted.   
After the song wrapped up I noticed the band getting ready to leave. I saw my chance. I finished my drink and looked for my friend. I needed his help if I wanted to get to the pianist. Luckily, I already spotted Joe making his way to me.   
“Jimmy,” he called out with his arms already extended out to embrace me, “It’s about time you came to see me. What’s it been, a few months at least, you sly son of a bitch.”  
I grinned at him, “I’ve been busy, Joe. I started something in Havana. I’ve been living there for a while now. It’s paradise.”   
“What? Havana, Cuba?”  
“You know another Havana?”  
He laughed, “No, no, I guess not. So, have you kept in touch with anyone while you’ve been in paradise?”  
“Not really.”  
“I heard Marco got out,” He said with a knowing look, “Did you know that?”  
“No,” I shook my head, “No, I didn’t.”  
“It might be a good idea to track him down. You know, extend the olive branch.”  
“Come on, Joe. That’s in the past. I didn’t come down here to talk about stuff like that. I wanted to ask about your pianist.”  
Joe grinned, “He’s good, isn’t he? He’s really helped business. The band is great.”  
“He’s better than good. Listen, Joe, I’m opening up a hotel in Havana and I still need musicians. I think he’d be great. I want to hire him.”  
“No can do, Jimmy. Do you know how many customers he’s brought in here?”  
“Oh, come on, Joe, be a pal. Your club will be alright without him.”  
“I don’t have time to find a replacement, especially not one as good as him. I’m sorry. I have to say no.”  
“Joey, Joey, Joey, Joey. Joe. Help me out here. For old time’s sake. Lend me a hand here.”  
“I can’t do it.”  
“Not even for an old friend like me? We go back, Joe, way back.”  
Joe sighed, “I know we do -”  
“I mean, do you remember the work we used to do together? The things we did? The stories I could tell…”  
Joe gave me a hard stare, “What are you getting at?”  
I shrugged, “Nothing. I’m just saying how we used to work together, is all. We really got into some stuff. Like do you remember that police officer you -”  
Joe shushed me, “Quiet! You want the whole club to know?”  
“Sorry. But sometimes when I get to talking I just… can’t keep quiet. You know how it is. I get to reminiscing on the old times and pretty soon you never know what comes out my mouth.”  
“Is that a threat?”  
“Joey, we’re friends. I would never threaten a friend. Just call it a little warning. I mean… if I have to look for a pianist I’ll have to go around all these different clubs, talk to all kinds of people, mingling with all sorts, pretty soon I just start yapping away. Do we really want that?”  
Joe glared at me and put his hand on his hip. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and I thought he was about ready to murder me, but I knew he wouldn’t be dumb enough to do it in a packed place.   
Finally, he said, “You’re a real bastard sometimes, Jimmy.”  
I gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder and he sighed, finally he led me to the band.   
“Fellas,” he called out to the band, “This is James, an old friend of mine.”  
They gave me a short greeting and turned back to putting away their instruments. I glanced over at Joe, I wanted to make sure he’d do what I ask.   
We eyed each other and he hesitated a moment before calling out, “Milio, hang back a second. Jimmy here wants a word with you.”  
The pianist turned and blinked at us. He looked to the others in the band and ran his hands through his hair before he slowly made his way to us.  
As I got a better look at him I saw he was dressed quite fashionably. He wore dark, high-waisted, pinstripe pants with dark suspenders, and his long-sleeved white shirt had a neat club collar. I nodded slowly at him. I knew that with his piano playing and how attracted girls seemed to him, he could get my hotel exactly where I wanted it.   
“Jimmy,” Joe said, “This is Emilio.”  
“Emilio,” I said smiling at him and extending out my hand to him to shake, “How’s it going? I want to make you an offer.”  
He furrowed his brows in confusion. I could tell he wasn’t expecting what I was about to say next, but for me - in my mind, I was already picturing the Pasado’s ballroom, filled to the brim with dancing and music, and all thanks to him. They called Havana the Paris of the Caribbean. I knew now that I wouldn’t just be a part of Havana - I would run it. The entire city was going to be mine one day. And thanks to Emilio I’d rule it all straight from my hotel.


End file.
